


A New Chapter

by BarPurple



Series: Twisted Tale as Old as Time [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark One Belle, Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Build, spinner rumple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6467506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the Spinner's soul has saved the kingdom, now the Dark One has a curious new servant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rumple staggered as the Dark One released his hand. His stomach was flipping, a result of travelling by magic he supposed, but he’d never been more pleased that there been no food for his breakfast. The idea of vomiting on the polished marble floor of the Dark One’s home was terrifying. 

“Follow me.”

Rumple took a hasty breath and limped after the Dark One. She led him down into the depths of the castle, leaving him in no doubt of their final destination, that the door had a metal grille across its narrow window was final confirmation. Lady Belle opened the door with a flick of her hand and waved him inside. He risked a quick glance at his captor, his owner really and shuffled passed her into the cell, his cell.

“I’ll summon you when I have need of you.”

He turned just in time as the door closed with an echoing bang. Rumple flinched, but managed to quell his gasp of fear. He dropped on to the pallet bed and took a long look around his cell. It was small, clean and dry; no natural light, nor candles, but somehow it was bright, that had to be magic. It didn’t feel like a prison, although solid thunk of bolts sliding home told him he was locked in. He’d given himself to the Dark One freely without giving a single thought as to what that would entail. His only focus had been on saving his boy. Tears prickled his eyes at the thought of Bae, but he blinked them away, years of experience had taught him that no one like the sight of a sobbing man and it would be the height of ingratitude to weep for his loss when the Dark One had given his son so very much.

Rumple dug his hands into his bag and removed his drop spindle and some roving. He always travelled with basic spinning supplies, not that he had travelled far from the village for a long time. In moments his hands fell into the soothing repetitive actions of drawing and twisting, and his mind slipped into meditative blankness providing welcome relief from troubled thoughts about what his future held.

It took Rumple a moment to place the sound and blink out of his spinning trance. The door had creaked open. The only gauge he had of the time that had passed was the amount of thread spooled about the spindle, about an hour since he was locked in, but now the door stood open. He carefully stowed his spindle in his bag and left it on the bed. The Dark One had said she would summon him, so this must be that. He suffered a moment of dread that she was tempting him to escape as a test, but pushed the thought away. He would not leave, that would incur her wrath and endanger Bae. With a wince and a small groan he pulled himself upright and leaning heavily on his staff made his way out into the corridor. The passage to his right was lit up with floating candles. With a shrug he followed the flickering trail.

 

Belle La Fay was drumming her fingers against the sleek table top in the dining room when her new servant finally limped into her presence.

“You took your time.”

“I…I am sorry, my Lady. I’ll be quicker next time, I swear.”

The man was trembling under her scrutiny, trembling appeared to be his default state if his attitude in the King’s throne room was anything to judge by. Belle tilted her head and frowned slightly at the staff he was leaning on. 

“Your injury never healed correctly?”

“No, my Lady.”

Belle drummed her fingers again. She wasn’t sure what to make of this man, clearly he was a coward at heart, but there appeared to be a kernel of strength buried deep with in him. She’d listened to him in his cell and he’d not shed a single tear, or ranted against his sudden imprisonment. He’d not even rattled the door to test the limits of his confinement. Strange. He kept his eyes down, focused on the floor at his feet rather than meet her eyes. 

“Come here.”

That earned her a quick, nervous glance, but it was so fleeting she would have missed it if she’d not been watching him closely. Twelve ungainly steps later he stood before her, close enough to have followed her instruction, but not close enough to crowd her. Belle rose to her feet and dropped to her knees in front of him; she had to suppress a giggle at the strangled sound of shock that escaped his lips. Her raised hands came within inches of touching his crippled leg, but she let her magic close the final distance. No being alive appreciated the tough of the Dark One, yet she’d not felt any revulsion from him when she took his hand to spirit him away from the King’s throne room. Belle angrily pushed the thought away, the revulsion would have been there had he not been so shocked by the turn of events. She focused on correcting his twisted bones, not aware that she was masking the pain this sort of healing brought.

The limb restored Belle tilted her head back and was met with a stunned gaze on the face of her new servant, butler she supposed would do as a title. She rose elegantly to her feet and tugged the staff from his hand. He resisted for an instant, but that was probably the force of long habit, so she chose not to take offense. Belle turned her back on him to place the staff in one of the many cupboards than line the room. She didn’t want to watch the glee on his face now his escape was easier. She’d not considered that a simple, long overdue act of healing would allow him to run away from her; how long would he wait before he tried it? She returned to her seat before she looked at him again. That stunned look was still on his face.

“Thank you, my Lady. For my leg and for the great kindness you bestowed on my son.”

Belle frowned, she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had thanked her for anything, cursed her, ranted at her unfairness, but thanks? That hadn’t happened in a very long time. She dismissed his words and the unfamiliar warm feeling in her chest with a rapid wave of her hand.

“I didn’t do it for you, dearie. I can’t have my butler limping around when he brings me my tea.” She pointed to the door behind him. “The kitchen is across the entrance hall, third corridor on the left. Quickly please, you’ve no excuse for lingering now.”

Rumple departed with a quick bob of his head. She almost laughed as muscle memory forced his right hand up to shoulder height as he walked, his long fingers gripping air instead of the familiar staff.

 

The kitchen was bigger than anything he’d even seen; his whole tiny cottage would fit easily in one corner and not be noticed. Rumple shooed away his wool gathering thoughts and set to work making his mistress’ tea. As the kettle boiled over the fire he found a delicate tea set patterned with blue flowers and a large silver tray. They went on to the well-scrubbed table while he searched for tea. The larder revealed an overwhelming choice. He chewed his bottom lip as he popped the lids from various caddies, sniffing at the contents to find the right one. Which was the right one? His mistress had just ordered tea, she’d not specified what sort of tea. Rumple twisted his fingers together as he considered his options. None of the caddies held any less than the others, so he couldn’t pick the most used and hope for the best. In the end he picked the one that smelt of bergamot and orange blossom for no better reason than its delicate scent. As he swilled the pot with hot water from the kettle he caught himself limping and reaching for things to lean on as he moved. He huffed and tutted at his foolishness, straightening to stand firmly on his newly repaired leg. He’d have to watch that he didn’t slip back into the old movements of a cripple; it would be a shame to waste the healing work of his mistress. For a second he frowned at the tray, tea pot, cups, sugar bowl and tongs, jug of milk, slices of lemon, strainer, what else would a fine lady expect to see? Aha, cakes. He quickly arranged some of the delicate fondants he’d found in the larder on a plate and hoped he’d remembered everything. A happy smile grew on his face as he lifted the tray and walked with quick confident steps to his waiting mistress.


	2. Tea and Chipped Cups

The Dark One was waiting for him, one elbow propped on the table her chin in her hand. It was only when Rumple got closer he saw the book on the table in front of her. As he carefully put the tray on the table he could see her dazzling blue eyes were flicking back and forth at an impossible speed, the pages turning on their own; she couldn’t be reading that quickly, could she? 

“I think that teacup is full.”

“Damn it.”

Rumple cursed at her words. He’d started pouring the tea, but had been so distracted he’d let the cup overflow. The mess highlighted what he’d forgotten to put on the tray, napkins.

“I’m sorry my Lady.” 

Belle clicked the fingers of one hand as she slid a bookmark in between the pages with the other. The flood of tea disappeared and she smile up at him.

“Begin again, dearie. Lemon not milk.”

Rumple nodded quickly and turned all of his attention to pouring his mistress a perfect cup of tea. Belle sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap.

“What manner of man are you, Rumplestiltskin?”

He carefully handed her a cup of tea and politely asked; “What do you mean my Lady?”

Belle took a sip and sighed happily at the light taste of the blend, apparently he was a man who could select and brew the perfect tea for her mood.

“Are you going to posture and complain that men do not do ‘women’s work’?”

There was a slight hiss in her voice as she spoke the last words. Rumple shook his head, a trace of a smile on his lips.

“My Lady, if I were the sort of man to complain about doing a woman’s work my boy would have been running around naked, filthy and hungry these past seven years.”

Belle stared at him for a beat then giggled at him.

“Excellent. Then your duties here in the castle are to clean, launder my clothes, cook my meals,” A flash of devilment danced over her face, “And drain the blood of the babes I hunt for my bath.”

Rumple flinched, sending a cup he’d been fidgeting with tumbling to the carpet. He actually met her eyes, true it was a wide eyed, terror tinted gaze, but he was looking directly at her. Belle couldn’t keep the smirk from her face.

“That one was a jest. Baby blood is terrible for the skin, no matter what the horror stories of my ablutions claim.”

He blushed, he’d heard tales that Belle La Fay bathed in the blood of children to keep her youthful looks, “A jest, of course my Lady,” his face fell as he dropped easily to one knee and scooped the fallen cup from the carpet, “It’s chipped, I’m sorry my Lady.”

He held it out for her to see, but managed to shy away from her at the same time. Oh, oh he was anticipating a blow from her. What exactly had those villagers put this man through? Belle forced down her rage and smiled at him.

“It’s just a cup. It will still hold tea. Fill it up.”

Rumple sagged a little and did as she instructed. Once the tea was poured Belle reached over the table and swapped her own cup for the chipped one. She carefully took a sip and smiled at him.

“See, its fine,” She nodded to the whole, almost full cup that had been hers, “Now you take that one and sit down,” Again that stunned look appeared on his face, “Join me for tea, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Yes my Lady.”

 

An awkward silence descended on the room, only broken by the rattle of china and the odd nervous clearing of Rumple’s throat. Belle knew why he was feeling uncomfortable, he was taking tea with the Dark One after all, but she couldn’t work out why she felt the same. She was the Dark One and manipulated situations to her own advantage came to her without thinking, but in the company of this shy, selfless coward she was reduced to the fumbling girl she’d not been for centuries, and that simply would not do. Holding back the deep breath she wanted to take she asked;

“Tell me of you childhood, Rumplestiltskin.”

His eyes darted quickly in her direction, but returned to his hands as he carefully placed his teacup on its saucer. He inhaled slowly and just as in the King’s throne room Belle felt the twisting threads of a story weaving about him. With a slow exhale he began to speak.

“I was bastard born, the son of the local conman and coward. I guess I inherited that from him, but not his looks. Malcolm was devilishly handsome in his youth so they say. My memories of him are different I suppose.”

Belle waited, she understood better than anyone the use of a dramatic pause to capture an audience.

“Of my mother I know nothing. The other children of the village called me a changeling child because no one knew where Malcolm had come by his bastard son.”

Rumple’s head tilted towards her, but it took him a moment to chance a look at her face. Belle was waiting with baited breath for his story, but something caught in her chest when she saw the heartbreak in his eyes. Rumple cleared his throat again, his thumbs playing across his fingers in a regular motion that Belle almost thought she recognized.

“It didn’t take long for Malcolm to decide that being lumbered with an undersized child was not for him. He left the boy with his maiden aunts and disappeared into the night. The little boy waited for days in vain for the return of the only parent he’d ever known.”

Did he know he’d slipped into the third person? Belle had to wonder at this defensive trick he had, the second he did it his story flowed more easily.

“When Malcolm didn’t return and a neighbour told the spinster aunts the tale of him being dragged from the tavern and run out of town for cheating at cards, well then was the moment the little boy knew that he had been abandoned for good. He dried the tears from his face and forced false steel into his spine. That was the day he asked the aunts to teach him how to spin, so he would have a trade and would never have reason to fall into the ways of the trickster and conman.”

Rumple stopped speaking, his eyes fixed on his fingers. Belle let the first, but not the most important question, spill from her lips.

“The aunts were spinners?”

Rumple gave a one shouldered shrug.

“I told you I had no qualms about doing the work of women, my Lady.”

Belle chuckled; “That you did, Rumplestiltskin. Did you learn your trade well?”

“Well enough that even those who despised me would buy my wares.”

There was an uncomfortable familiarity in the words he spoke. Belle shuddered herself into a mask of indifference. Her next words came out hard and cold.

“As diverting as this tale is, you babbling will not see my castle cleaned.”

Rumple ducked his head and rose from his seat.

“Of course, my Lady. Where would you like me to begin?”

“The laundry.”

Belle snapped her fingers and banished the man to the kitchen yard. She glared at her book, knowing full well that the unsettled feeling within her would not be comforted by its pages. With an angry huff she smoked herself away to her tower, hoping that the scry glass and her potions would ease her.


	3. Mirrors and Family

Rumple had been at the Dark Castle for a month when Belle noticed a change in his mood. He was as dedicated and uncomplaining in his work as he had been from the beginning, but there was now a slump to his shoulders and his shy smiles were a little slower in coming to his face. He was more subdued and fell into silence frequently. Belle was surprised at how much this irked her, she’d spent longer than she cared to think about alone, but over the past month she’d rapidly become used to the company Rumple provided and now that appeared to be slipping away from her. This wouldn’t do at all. Over tea one afternoon Belle causally asked;

“You’re missing him badly aren’t you?”

Rumple jerked out of his silent contemplation. He needed no time at all to nod in answer; there was only one person she could mean. A flash of terror crossed his face and he stammered as he tried to clarify;

“I’m so very grateful for the kindness you bestowed on my boy, my Lady. You gave him a better life than I could’ve ever hoped too, but I… I miss him. This is the longest time we’ve ever been apart since he was born,” He gave he a panicked look, “I know the terms of our deal are forever, my Lady, and I swear I’ll never try to wriggle out of it,” Belle actually believed him, he gave a small shrug, “All sons leave their fathers behind. I’m just being a fond fool, it will pass.”

He gave her a bright smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and changed the subject with a polite inquiry about Belle’s most recent deal. 

As he was clearing away the tea tray Belle informed him; “I’ll be heading out for a while. I will return in time for dinner.”

With that a cloud of blue smoke wrapped around her and the Dark One vanished. Rumple sagged against the table and gave in to the tears that had been threatening to spill all afternoon. He cursed himself as a coward, he wished he had the nerve to ask Lady Belle if he could see his son, or even just have word of him. In the month he’d been here he felt he’s come to know her a little; he was almost certain she wouldn’t rage at him, wouldn’t accuse him of trying to break the deal that saved Baelfire and the kingdom, but almost certain wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t take the chance that the Dark One would rescind her protection. He scrubbed his hand across his face, disgusted by his weakness, shedding tears for his boy was idiotic. They might never see each other again in this life, but what sort of father mourned for his son when he was alive and well? Rumple shook his head at himself and went about his work, as long as he remembered that Bae was living a good life his heart wasn’t quite as heavy.

 

Belle returned to her castle that night with a bounce in her step. Rumple smiled at her, this was a sure sign that her deal had gone well. She skipped over to him a pressed a small package into his hands. He stared at it blankly, waiting for her to instruct him as to what he was to do with it.

“Well, open it up.”

Rumple’s eyebrows rose, his fingers got to work on the thick wrappings. Inside was a small hand mirror and three letters all sealed with wax. Each of them was addressed to him; his heart lurched into his throat as he recognized the childish hand on one of them.

“This is from Bae?”

Belle giggled at him; “Yes, dearie. The letters are for reading, you know. It’s the mirror that is for looking at.”

Rumple grinned at her teasing, plainly confused. She took the mirror from his unresisting hand and turned so her back was to him and they were both reflected in the small mirror. She said to it; “Show me Baelfire.”

The glass rippled and the reflection of Belle and Rumple was replaced with an image of Bae. Behind her Rumple gasped. Bae was talking with a blonde girl about his age. The girl smiled at something he said, and then blushed a little as Bae bowed and kissed her hand.

“Did you see that? He’s flirting! My boy is flirting with a noble woman.”

Rumple sounded two parts shocked and one part proud.

“Actually he’s flirting with a princess.”

Rumple’s face paled. Belle put a reassuring hand on his arm; “It’s alright, he’s a ward of the King, and he’s being a perfect gentleman.”

She let Rumple take the mirror and watched his face as he drank in every detail of his son.

“He’s filled out a bit, and he’s grown.”

The image flickered and faded causing Rumple to whimper in disappointment.

“The magic only holds for a few minutes. Mirror magic is to be used sparingly, but you’ll be able to check in on him for a few moments once every three days. You can’t talk to him, but the King has promised to send regular letters. There is one there from his tutor and one from the captain of the guard.”

Rumple was speechless, and in a moment of overwhelming emotion he surged forward and wrapped Belle in a hug. The Dark One gingerly patted his back and cleared her throat before gently pushing him away. There were no stammering apologise from her butler, instead he grinned at her and said;

“Thank you. Thank you so much for this my Lady.”

“Don’t be letting this distract you from your duties. Don’t you have a dinner to serve?”

Rumple was clutching his letters tightly in his hand, she could feel his desperation to read them and found herself softly saying; “You can read them to me over dinner. I…I need to ensure that the King is treating his ward well.”

He nodded happily and tenderly placed the letters and the mirror on the table. As he left to finish dinner Belle took a deep sighing breath and found herself wondering why she could still feel the warmth of his arms around her, and why it was such a pleasantly unsettling sensation.


	4. Threads and Magic

“Blast it all!”

Rumple bit his lip to mask his smile. The Dark Lady was certainly a fine lady when it came to swearing. For some reason he’d thought the Dark One would cuss a blue streak like his father could when he was angry, but he was beginning to suspect that Belle La Fay didn’t even know any foul words. No, she must have read them in one of her books; she just chose not to use them. He shook away his strange musings on how vulgarities would sound formed by her lips and crossed the room to his mistress’ side.

“What’s the matter my Lady?”

Belle threw the object of her frustration at the table and harrumphed when there was no satisfying thump; the thread she’d been holding drifted into a coil against the well-scrubbed wood.

“I need to enchant this thread for that simpering little princess who called on me yesterday, but the infuriating stuff won’t hold the charm.”

Rumple carefully plucked the thread from the table and began to run it though his fingers. To his eye the thread was cheap and poorly made. He must have spoken this thought aloud as his mistress asked;

“Is that your professional opinion?”

She’d been expecting him to blush, but this was his area of expertise and he had no shame in his knowledge or ability.

“Yes my lady. The fibres haven’t been sorted well and the twist is uneven. Where did you get this?”

“From the dress maker in the village.”

Rumple snorted; “The same one who made your blue velvet gown?” Belle nodded, “This explains why I’ve had to repair every seam.”

Belle’s brow creased, “That dress is of the finest fabric.”

“The fabric yes, and well cut, but it was stitched with cheap thread and,” He twirled the thread he was holding in a loop in the air, “this is why the seams kept popping.”

“What did you use to repair it?”

Now Rumple’s cheeks did colour slightly, “My own thread. I had some in my bag when you brought me here.”

“Do you have any left?” Her butler nodded, “Bring it to me, please.”

With a small bob of a bow he hurried from the room. Belle flicked her hand and summoned her blue velvet dress. It floated in the air as if draped on an invisible manikin. She ran one finger over a side seam, which had been one that she’d noticed pop. She had to lean in until her nose was almost touching the fabric to see the tiny, even stitches that now held the seam firm. With a rapid click of her fingers she banished the dress back to her wardrobe and resumed her seat. A few seconds later Rumple returned clutching his rough sling bag in his hands.

“My lady, what does the princess want to do with this thread?”

Belle sniffed as she recalled the particulars of her deal with the girl.

“She wants to sew a favour for her knight, so he will win a tourney and prove his suitably as a husband for her to her father.”

Rumple nodded, apparently indifferent to the sneer in Belle’s tone, she had no time for such ridiculous romantic nonsense, but a deal was a deal and the old scrolls would be a handsome addition to her library. The little princess would learn soon enough that skill with a lance didn’t qualify a knight to make a good husband. Her butler had sorted three spools of thread from his bag and lined them up on the table.

“Any of these three should serve, my lady.”

Belle picked up the pale cream spool and unwound a length of the fine silky thread. She could feel the difference between the shoddy stuff she’d been trying to use and this, this felt strong and smooth, it was almost begging to be enchanted, in fact there was a faint glimmer present in the fibres.

“There is already magic in this.”

Rumple looked stunned; “But I made that. How can there be magic there, my Lady?”

Belle arched an eyebrow at him; “There’s magic to be found in the skill of the hearth and home, dearie.”

He was watching the thread dance through her fingers as if it was a wonder of the world. Suddenly playful she sent the loose end dancing towards him, sending him almost cross eyed as it bopped the end of his nose. He laughed at her antics and met her eyes. For a moment she became the focus of that look of wonder, but then he dipped his head and left her to her charm work.

 

While they were having tea a few days later Belle spotted Rumple’s thumbs moving across his fingers and suddenly the nature of the unconscious gesture became clear.

“Your hands want to be spinning, Rumple.”

He cast a guilty look at his hand and then deliberately stilled them by lacing his fingers together.

“Old habit, my Lady.”

Belle briefly drummed her fingers on the table and then got to her feet.

“Come with me.”

Rumple followed her without question, as always walking two paces behind her; she’d know nobles of the oldest blue blood with fewer manners than her humble spinner. She led him to her library sending her magic ahead of them to prepare the surprise she had in mind for him. Once in the great round room surrounded by her books, Belle twirled on the spot and waved her hand to one of the windows. Rumple’s jaw fell open, only to be snapped shut as he hastily swallowed. Standing by one of the floor to ceiling windows, next to Belle’s favoured reading couch was a spinning wheel.

“F..for me?”

“Well, you are the only spinner in the castle, dearie.”

He moved like a sleep walker to the wheel and dreamily ran his hand over the smooth curved wood. A frown drew in his brows and he crouched down to inspect the bench seat. A gasp escaped his throat as his fingers found the initials carved into the wood of one leg.

“This is my wheel, my wheel from home.”

He’d turned on his heels as he spoke and was gapping at her in wide eyed amazement. Belle suddenly felt inexplicably nervous and bit her lip.

“I assumed a master craftsman would have a preference for his own tools.”

She moved closer trying to quell the strange sensation of nerves; they had to be because she’d not given a gift in so long, that was it, some long forgotten anxiety over how a gift would be received, nothing more. She’d convinced herself that allowing his son to send letters was more for her well-being than his; she made to make certain the King was holding up his end of their deal and treating the boy well. Rumple’s hand suddenly grasped hers and tugged her down into a crouch beside him.

“This is the wheel the aunts gave me when I set up my own home. It’s the one I taught Bae to spin on. Look,” One long finger pointed out the carved initials, “He was eight when he carved those.”

Belle watched his finger trace the rough R and B.

“He started out by cutting a P for Papa, but then he decided that it should be an R for my given name. He got so worked up until he realized how easy to was to change one letter into the other.”

Rumple turned towards her, his face was so close their noses almost brushed. Belle could feel his stuttering breath on her face; she couldn’t remember when she’d been this close to another person. For a brief moment she thought he was going to kiss her, and for a brief moment she didn’t care, but then her defences slammed back into place and she pulled away. Rumple blinked a few times and politely helped her to her feet.

Belle turned away, towards her couch and her books. Rumple dropped onto the bench of his wheel and began to sort the roving in the basket. There was a thick silence in the air, as if the moment that had almost passed between them was lingering, giving them a chance to take the obvious next step. Rumple stole a glance at Lady Belle, she was deeply engaged in her book, her amazingly blue eyes flashing back and forth at speed. She truly was beautiful, but Rumple saw more that her fine features, her saw a kind and generous heart, and he almost wished, no that was foolishness. Rumple shook away his half formed and scarcely admitted hopes of affection returned and began to spin.

An hour or so later Rumple emerged from his spinning trace to find Lady Belle staring at him.

“I’m sorry. You said something, my lady?”

Belle smiled at him; “There is a magic about you as you spin. I half-expected the thread to turn to gold under your fingers.”

Rumple chuckled at the reference to the old tale of the imp who spun straw into gold; “Every apprentice spinner in the realms has heard that story, my Lady. I suspect many of them waste their time looking for the trick of it, all the while dreaming of becoming rich instead of learning their craft.”

“You never wasted time in such away?”

He smiled shyly; “Maybe a few moments here and there, but the aunts were serious about their craft and could be stern taskmasters,” His voice rose in pitch, “There’s only one sure way to spin gold, Rumple. You work the wheel and sell the wares.”

Belle nodded, she liked everything she heard about these aunts. They sounded like practical women who had little truck with magic and stories. Things would have been very different if she’d had such a sensible influence in her younger years.

“The tale is true you know. The imp did exist and he could spin straw into gold.”

She got to her feet and padded bare foot to his wheel. Rumple looked anxious as she took his hands in hers, but he didn’t flinch away from her touch. He was possibly unique in that respect. Belle muttered something under her breath and watched his eyes widen as the shimmer of magic hit him. It honestly didn’t take much, perhaps if he’d looked for the trick he would have found it himself in time. Belle nodded at the wheel and moved to stand behind him. She carefully placed her hands on his shoulders and fancied she felt a slight shiver run through him. 

“Start to spin, Rumplestiltskin.”

He did as she bid and once the wheel was steadily creaking again she began to speak.

“Think of the stories of the spinning imp. Think of the way gold would catch the light as it winds from your fingers.”

She’d known it wouldn’t take much, but even so she was surprised at how quickly the yarn turned from cream to gold. He hadn’t noticed what he had done, so Belle leant down and whispered in his ear; “Rumple, look.”

His hands stilled as he gasped. A tentative hand reached out to touch the fine golden thread. Rumple swallowed hard and twisted to face her. Belle anticipated his movement and back away from him.

“All magic comes with a price, my Lady. I have nothing to give you for this.”

Belle shrugged; “This magic is bought and paid for by the skill of your own hands,” She frowned sternly at him, “Besides this will mean extra work for you. You have no idea how many spells require gold for their working. And I still need that thread for the silly princess.”

Rumple bowed his head in acceptance and clipped the section of gold from the yarn. Belle noticed him carefully coil it and tuck it into his pocket, she didn’t mind, after all it was only fair he kept the first gold he spun.


	5. Guests and Warnings

Rumple dipped the scrubbing brush into the bucket of water and renewed his attack on the table top. Whatever this yellow stuff was it was clinging stubbornly to the grain, but it had to come off, Lady Belle needed a clean work surface to brew potions. Apparently the last one was supposed to froth, but did it have to leave such a ruddy mess?

“Aha! That’s got ya, whatever you are.”

The last of the gunk yielded to his vicious scrubbing. Rumple dropped the brush into the bucket and stretched his arm, rubbing the ache from his elbow. That had taken longer than he’d thought it would, he’d have to hurry to prepare his mistress’ afternoon tea now. With a smile on his face he grabbed the bucket and headed to the kitchen. In the two months he’d been Belle La Fay’s butler they’d fallen into a routine and afternoon tea was his second favourite part of the day. 

On his first day here he’d thought that the Dark One had allowed him to take tea with her so she could inform him of his duties. With this in mind on the second day he’d served her and stepped back from the table, she’d nodded to the chair beside her and told him to sit down, chiding him that she didn’t like people looming over her while she drank. He’d laughed and pointed out that a man of his stature would need a ladder to loom over anyone. The jest had left his lips without thought, but he’d been gripped by panic when his brain caught up with his words, and more importantly whom he’d said them to. The Dark Lady had arched an eyebrow at him and stood up high lighting the difference in their heights, she was so petite that even Rumple felt tall next to her. He’d bowed his head with a smile and slipped into the chair without another word. The next day when he brought her tea he had sat down before he served her, ‘So as not to loom, my Lady’, Belle had thrown her head back and laughed at him. From then on afternoon tea was something they shared together, and it was the highlight of Rumple’s day until his mistress gifted him his spinning wheel. Now his favourite time of day was the evening, when his work was done and Lady Belle was home, not out on one of her deals. She would sit in the library and read while he span gold or yarn for her. Some nights not a word passed between them other than a simple ‘Good night’, but other times Belle would read to him, or they would talk of stories or Bae’s latest letter. 

Belle was in the kitchen when he arrived.

“There you are,” Belle glanced at the bucket in his hand, “The chimera bile all cleaned up?”

Rumple closed his eyes briefly, he’d been happier not knowing what he was cleaning up.

“Yes my Lady. You workbench is fit for use again.”

She smiled at him; “Wonderful. We will be having two guests for tea this afternoon, we’ll need carrot cake and the strong black tea, please.”

Rumple dipped his head in acknowledgement of his mistress’ orders. As he turned to the sink to dump the bucket and scrub his hands he thought she was about to say something else, but Belle left the kitchen without another word. He was certain it was the fact he was scouring chimera bile from his hands that was causing his chest to feel strangely tight.

Visitors to the Dark Castle were rare; Lady Belle usually went out to conduct her deals. Rumple had the impression that whoever was joining them for afternoon tea were regular if infrequent guests, after all Lady Belle had ordered specific tea and cake for them. As he carried the laden tray upstairs Rumple wondered if the fourth cup was presumptuous. Fine ladies did not take tea with their butlers in the presence of guests, did they?

There was laughter coming from the great hall as Rumple entered. A tall man in the brightest clothes Rumple had ever seen was embracing Lady Belle. The gesture was well within the bounds of propriety, but Rumple’s chest tightened again. Rumple had experience with envy; life as the despised village coward had been hard and left him and Bae wanting for much. This feeling in his chest was similar, but he couldn’t shake it away as easily as he had done in the past when he’d looked on at the small comforts enjoyed by the other villagers. The sight of Lady Belle smiling as she returned the stranger’s hug caused another twinge in his chest, and that was the moment Rumple identified the feeling; jealousy. He was jealous of the place this peacock of a man held in his mistress’ affections. He turned his attention to the tea things, hoping that his blush of embarrassment wasn’t noticed. The Dark Lady had already raised him far above his station, but that didn’t give him any rights to aspire higher.

“Rumple.”

At the sound of his name he turned to face his mistress and her guests. The man gave him a toothy grin and said; “You must be Belle’s latest acquisition.”

Rumple nodded stiffly, in that one sentence the stranger had firmly reminded him of his place within the Dark Castle. He was nothing more than a servant, the price claimed in one of Lady Belle’s deals. He shouldn’t have brought the fourth cup, his mistress wouldn’t want him at table today; she had guests of her own station to entertain her. The second guest was a little girl of about nine or ten; she was hiding behind the man’s legs, peaking shyly at Rumple. The man, who must be her father, gently nudged her forward as Belle said;

“Rumplestiltskin, may I introduce my dear friends Jefferson and his daughter Grace.

Rumple was surprised as the man made an extravagant bow to him. His daughter offered him a little curtsey and a shy smile. Rumple couldn’t hope to match the man for elegance, but he bowed low and said; “My Lord,” He bowed again for the young lady, “My Lady.”

Jefferson boomed out a hearty laughter and clapped Rumple on the shoulder.

“No need for my lording me, I am but a simple hatter,” the man pulled him closed and whispered in his ear, “I thank you sir for the manners you show my pride and joy, keep it up and you shall ever have my friendship.”

Rumple nodded quietly at the man’s words and moved to hold a chair out for Grace. He wasn’t surprised when Jefferson did the same for Belle. The two ladies giggled and took their seats.

“I think our gentlemen are trying to spoil us Grace.”

Belle frowned slightly as Rumple remained standing to pour their tea, she caught his arm and softly said; “What happened to not looming?”

Rumple blinked at her as she nodded to his habitual seat on her left. The tightness in his chest vanished and with a smile he took his seat.

 

The four of them could have been friends for years as the afternoon passed in a blur of easy conversation. Rumple had been amazed at Jefferson’s tales of other realms. He liked the sound of Wonderland, for all Jefferson’s assurances it was a dreadfully foolish place. 

“Papa, says there is a talking rabbit there, but he won’t take me to meet him.”

Belle had laughed at Grace’s comment; “You wouldn’t want to meet him, Grace. He’s a grumpy cottontail who is always rushing about.”

Jefferson had been interested to learn of Rumple’s trade.

“Do you weave as well?” Rumple nodded, “I’m always on the lookout for decent fabric for my hats.”

Belle tutted at him; “He is my spinner, Hatter. He’ll be trying to steal you away from me once he sees the quality of your work, Rumple.”

At that Jefferson had given Rumple a curious look, “I’d be able to do no such thing, Belle.”

Later, when Belle had taken Grace to the library to find her a book to borrow, Rumple found himself the subject of that curious look once more.

“She’s enchanting isn’t she?” 

Rumple replied with a nod, “Your daughter does you proud, sir.”

Jefferson chuckled, “That she does, but I was speaking of Lady Belle.”

Rumple busied himself with brushing crumbs from the table as Jefferson continued; “No need to hide it. I’ve a soft spot for her myself, in a purely platonic way. I’ll tell you two things. One, I’ve not seen Belle this happy in years. Two, tread lightly. Belle’s been burned by love and I’ll not see her heart broken again.”

“Her heart? She doesn’t…I…I wouldn’t presume to... I’d never hurt her.”

The Hatter watched the man blush and stammer before he gathered the tray and hurriedly left. There was a man who couldn’t see what was right in front of his eyes, Belle and him made a perfect pair in that respect, Jefferson was certain his oldest friend was as oblivious about her feelings toward her spinner. The Hatter blew out a slow breath, he’d not interfere, but he vowed to himself that if Rumplestiltskin hurt Belle then he’d send him through the Hat to somewhere much worse than Wonderland.


	6. What was...

There was an old story. A tale of the God who had crafted mankind from the clay of the world, as he created mankind this craftsman had pulled the impurities from the clay and locked them away in a box; a box that had become legend in its own right. The tales of old said that on the fateful day the box was opened all the impurities had flown forth to curse the world, there was only one thing left in the bottom of the box, and that thing was Hope. That was what the tale was supposed to bring to the world, Hope. Hope that things could be better, Hope that the Gods of old actually cared about mankind, Hope for the future happiness of the world.

Belle La Fay knew every story that had ever been. Belle La Fay knew every version of every tale that had ever been uttered. Belle La Fay knew that Hope was a myth, and yet she had still dared, despite experience, despite learning, she dared to allow some of her being to believe, she had let some of her soul, some of her heart, to Hope.  
She should have known better.

He had proved to be nothing more than a man, he had failed her, no matter how she had hoped him to be different, how she had wanted him to be better than she expected, he had failed her, and in her rage she had wanted to destroy him for his weakness; she had wanted to tear him asunder for the sin of being nothing more than a common man, a man who would subdue her soul, a man who would see her weak and passive in the world. 

She now knew what manner of man Rumplestiltskin was; he was the same as any man who drew breath, a man who would not stand to see a woman with her own power; Gaston was a man who would see her on her knees begging, and that she would never do again.

“What right did you think you had to do that?”

Rumple would not meet her eyes, “I am sorry my Lady, I thought only to protect you.”

She fought to hold her magic, yet still the castle trembled and shook around her.

“I am the Dark One. How dare you presume to protect me?”

Her butler cringed but managed to raise his head; “I thought the thief was going to harm you,” His chest heaved as he drew breath, “I would rather die than see you hurt, my Lady.”

Books and scrolls rattled on their shelves as the Dark Lady’s magic looked for a release. Rumple shivered against the shaking timbers of the floor, but kept his head up enough to keep his mistress in sight.

“And what prize did you think you would claim for your heroics? Did you think you would win my hand by your daring deeds? Did you think to subdue me to your will by defending my virtue?”

The Dark Lady’s voice was harsh and cold, so full of anger and rage that Rumple could scarcely find it in himself to answer.

“I…I deserve no prize. I ask nothing of you my Lady.”

“LIAR!”

Priceless volumes tumbled from the shelves. Leather and paper crashed to the ground and tore on impact, pages whipped through the air, slicing at his skin as they hit him, but Rumple somehow managed to hold firm.

“Lady Belle! Forgive me. Please!”

The tempest abated. The only sound in the library was that of Rumple’s laboured breathing. Belle La Fay was stiller than a statue, her deep blue eyes glaring at the kneeling form of her butler.

“Get out of my sight. To your cell. Now.”

Rumple half expected to be sent on his way by her magic, but no blue smoke came. He slowly got to his feet. His mistress had not moved; he knew it was madness, but he had to try.

“I meant no offence, my Lady. I only wanted to keep you from harm.”

The Dark One did not move, nor showed any sign of having heard him. Rumple backed away, desperate to keep her in sight as long as he could, something within him was telling him that this would be the last chance he had to look up on his mistress.

He was wrong, he saw Belle La Fay again within the hour. 

And that he thought was the final time he would ever see her, framed within the door to his cell, as she had been on the first day cold and uncaring, and unknown to him; but now he did know her, now he knew that her blue eye’s weren’t uncaring, they were filled with pain and he longed to be the one who could ease that pain, but he had lost any chance he had; who was he kidding? He had never had a chance to soothe Lady Belle’s pain; he was the cause of it and nothing more. This was the last time he would be permitted to look upon his mistress. It felt final as her words broke his heart and ground the shattered pieces beneath her heel.

“You are free. Your kingdom is still under my protection, but I want you here no longer. Go.”

He tried to speak, to beg her to let him stay, but she wouldn’t look at him and her refusal to acknowledge him in anyway robbed him of all speech. Rumple shuffled passed her and left the Dark Castle. He reached the village at the foot of the mountain, he found passage on a wagon train, and finally he crossed into the Frontlands, and then in sight of his old home he cried.

The castle was empty. How long had she stood here? She was alone, and finally her temper cooled enough that she could take in the chaos caused by his departure. The library was in ruins around her, torn pages and ripped covers littered the floor at her feet. With a wave of her hand Belle returned the room to rights.

For the first time in centuries, the Dark One, Belle La Fay felt she could weep, but no tears came to her eyes. The castle around her responded by shaking and quaking on its foundations. The very bedrock shook until she screamed and stilled it with a thought. Now her rage found coherent form. Thoughts and feelings that had been nothing but unformed smoke took shape and presented themselves to her mind. How dare he? How dare her servant throw himself between her and the outlaw’s arrow? Did he think she could not still the bolt in its track? How dare he presume that she needed his help? Gods above, he could have died. That arrow could have pierced his heart. His foolishness had cost her a rare volume that she could never replace. Rumple could have died for a book of poems. Rumple could have died. Belle’s rage at what was lost turned for a moment to fear over what could have been lost. The book of poems was gone forever, but she could have lost him, she could have lost Rum…her butler.

Belle took in a slow lungful of air. She’d sent him away, and that was all for the good. How could she conduct her deals with him here? He was a distraction, nothing more. This was for the best. Of course she would keep the deal with the King of the Frontlands, she was the Dark One and a deal with her was sacrosanct; her word was as good as gold and always would be. 

Rumple would never know how close he had come to winning her heart. He said he deserved no prize from her and he was right. The wilted heart of the Dark One was no prize at all. He’d thrown himself between her and the outlaw’s arrow without thinking; the coward who’d offered his soul for his kingdom had once again proven he had a hero’s heart, and no one would ever know of his valour. Belle could only let him go free, let him live his life with his son; she could never let anyone know of his daring, because that would mean admitting a weakness. The story would be that she had needed saving; the story would be that a woman needed a hero, that a female couldn’t save herself. Belle shuddered. That would not be the legacy she left the world, she would not have it said that she needed a man to save her. Never would the world think that of her again. She was Belle La Fay, and she alone in all the world knew how stories worked, but that never meant she had to contribute to the continuation of the myth. It would never be said that the Dark One had been saved by anyone; Belle’s laugh was nearer to a cackle as it echoed off the walls of her castle. The sound rebounded and distorted to the point where none would ever recognize it for the heart broken sob that it was.


	7. What is...

Belle sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Someone was calling her name, she’d been trying to ignore the summons, but this one must be a desperate soul indeed, they’d not let up in over an hour. She rose to her feet and smoothed her dress and for the first time in months she didn’t call out to inform her butler she was leaving. A twist of blue smoke left the Dark Castle empty.

“Belle La Fay. Belle La Fay. Belle La Fay.”

The voice was hoarse, almost a sob now. Belle appeared in front of its owner and snapped; “Yes. Yes I heard you. What do you want dearie?”

It was a boy who’d called her, a boy she recognized only too well, on the cusp of manhood and already taller than her, and from the look of him would be taller still once he’d finished his growth. He swallowed dryly and managed to force words other than her name passed his lips.

“Please my Lady, I need your help to save my father.”

A shiver of fear slid down Belle’s spine, not that it showed in her rigid posture. His eyes stared imploringly at her; that whisky brown hue stirred bitter sweet memories of afternoon teas and an angry dismissal. Belle stomped on her recollections and glared at the boy. He didn’t know that she knew him, so she gratefully slipped behind the mask of snappish Dark One.

“Who are you, boy?”

The boy bowed formally; “Forgive my poor manners, my Lady. I am Baelfire, son of Rumplestiltskin.”

Hearing that name caused her mask to slip.

“Why does Rumple need saving?”

Baelfire made no comment on her use of the familiar short form of his father’s name. He began babbling out his tale.

“He came back and everyone was scared the ogres would return, but they didn’t, then someone saw him spinning gold and the Blue Fairy came and she tested him and now he’s different and in the dungeons and…”

“Baelfire! Calm down!”

The boy dragged in a shuddering breath. Belle made her own breathing slow and deep until the boy mimicked her.

“That’s it. I can’t help if I can’t understand you. Now start at the beginning and tell me, slowly, what has happened?”

“When Papa came home everyone was worried that the ogres would return. He told them that you’d sent him away, but sworn the war wouldn’t return. The King kept him in the castle as a guest, but he wasn’t allowed to leave.”

Belle’s eye’s narrowed; his situation hadn’t changed then, only the location. She felt an irrational anger toward the King, when she released Rumple from his end of their deal she had not thought him to become a prisoner in a different cage.

“Hostage is the word you’re looking for Bae.”

The boy frowned slightly at her calling him that, Belle kicked herself as she recalled that only his father used that nickname.

“Yes, hostage. No one was sure what to do. Some of the council wanted to send word to you, in case Papa had escaped and you were angry with him. Before they had decided, someone saw Papa spinning fleece into gold. The Blue Fairy said that changing base material into gold was dark magic. She told the King and the council that you had tainted Papa and sent him back to us to spread darkness in the kingdom. She said she could prove it.”

Belle’s hands balled into fists, her nails cut into her palms and drew blood. Her voice strained through gritted teeth as she asked;

“What did she do to him?”

Bae didn’t shrink before her scarcely controlled rage. 

“She made him hold her wand. He screamed when he touched it and there was all this black smoke that spewed from the wand and clung to Papa. When it had cleared he was changed. His skin is all scaly and glitters now and his eyes look like a lizard’s. The Blue Fairy said that was the evil within him showing itself. The King locked him in the dungeons. Papa babbles about horrible things now and when he does sleep he cries out in pain. The King wanted to execute him, to save the kingdom from his evil, but the council talked him into keeping him alive.”

“Why?”

“So he can spin gold for the treasury. The kingdom is growing rich off my Papa’s pain!”

Belle’s rage became a beast within her, champing at the bit to tear the King, his council and Blue Fairy limb from limb; crying out to blast this twisted kingdom from the face of the earth, to leave nothing but a smoking hole in the ground. Baelfire dropped to his knees in front of her and took one of her hands in both of his. The shock of his gentle touch calm the beast within her, reigned it back in and allowed her to hear the boy’s words.

“Please, Lady La Fay. Save my Papa, undo whatever the Blue Fairy did to him. Tell me the price and I will do my utmost to meet it.”

Belle tilted her head and regarded this strange boy. She admired his sense; he hadn’t blithely said he would pay any price, which proved him to be smarter than most of those who sought her help. He sounded so sure that his father’s affliction was due to that meddlesome gnat.

“How do you know that this isn’t my magic twisting your father? How do you know that the Blue Fairy wasn’t right?”

Soft brown eyes looked up at her, a small smile played at the corner of his lips; “Because, my Lady, Papa speaks of you with nothing but respect and fondness. Even now with him so tormented he smiles when he hears your name. Blue says that is proof of your dark touch, but I think there is only one force in the world that could make my Papa so happy and so sad at the same time.”

Belle tugged him to his feet. It had the desired effect of halting his words. The boy was heading toward something she didn’t want to consider, the reason she’d sent Rumple from her in the first place. She squared her shoulders and set about sensing Rumple with her magic. It failed her.

“I can’t find him.”

Bae nodded, “The dungeon he is in is protected against detection spells, but I can show you the way.”

They were in a clearing in the forest near the edge of the sprawling eastern arm of the castle. Bitter thoughts of the Blue Fairy were tumbling through her mind as she grabbed her skirts in her fists and hurried after Bae. Everyone believed that fairy magic was the purest of them all; no one questioned why those blasted bugs could dole out wishes without paying any price for their magic. Belle knew exactly how they did it and the thought chilled her, and hardened her rage into cold fury.

Belle drew up her hood as they approached the gate. The guard there gave Bae a suggestive wink and leered at her. Bae tugged her hand and drew her close to him, adding fuel to the guard’s imaginings that the young lad had found himself a girl for a bit of fun. Once they were out of sight and earshot Bae dropped her hand and whispered; “Sorry about that my Lady. I told him I was going to meet a girl when I slipped out earlier.”

“And what will he think about you leading your sweetheart down to the dungeons?”

“He’ll think I’m trying to impress her by showing her the Imp,” Bae’s words were bitter, “A lot of the guards do that.”

Belle realised he was talking about his father. Tearing this kingdom asunder would be too quick; she’d have to invent something slower and more painful to punish them for allowing her Rumple to be displayed like a freak of nature.

At the entrance to the dungeon Bae paused and cursed softly under his breath; “Hordor is in there. I won’t be able to bribe him.”

Belle pulled him back gently and stepped forward. She dropped her hood and walked boldly into the antechamber.

“Who the fu…”

The hulking guard never got to finish his course words. A flick of magic from Belle and all three men in the room slumped forward over the table, scattering dice and goblets as their unconscious heads hit the wood. 

“Wow.”

Bae was at her shoulder now, surveying the sleeping men with wonder. Belle shrugged; “A simple sleeping spell.”

“Thought you might have turned them into snails.”

“No, your Papa always complains about the mess they leave.”

In spite of their dire surroundings Bae snorted a laugh; “I can imagine, you should have heard him when I tracked mud into the house.”

It was an odd little shared moment of care for the man that had brought them together in this gloomy prison. It passed quickly but left an understanding in its wake; they were here for Rumple.

Bae led her to the furthest cell and the sight before her woke her long buried compassion. Rumple was locked in a filthy room, three walls were dank, dripping stone; the fourth was a formed by wooden bars, of course fairy magic couldn’t bear the touch of iron. Belle waved an angry hand and the wood shriveled away to dust. She pulled a face of distaste as her magic touched that of the Blue Fairy, even such brief contact made her feel the need to scrub her skin. The man inside showed no sign of awareness at the destruction. Bae brought a torch from the wall and Belle got her first clear look at Rumple. His son’s description had been broadly correct but lacking in detail, Rumple’s skin was scaled and glimmered with gold in the torchlight, but Bae had failed to mention how it was drawn tight over a thinning body, or how his bare chest and arms were marked in places by deep gouges.

“They beat him?”

“No, my Lady, he claws at himself when he sleeps.”

Rumple’s head twitched at the sound of Bae’s voice. For a split second Belle was sure his new lizard eyes met hers, but then his head lolled to the side.

“My boy Bae, brought me a dream, a beauty to gaze upon the beast.”

Bae stroked his father’s matted hair; “Hush now Papa, you’re no beast.”

“Evil, dark and blackened soul; that’s what keeps me in this hole.”

Bae smiled weakly at Belle; “He’s been like this since whatever the Blue Fairy did to him. What did she do to him, my Lady?”

“She cursed him with the unpaid price of the wishes she granted.”

Rumple giggled; “All the prices she didn’t pay, scream within me every day.”

Belle smiled and felt oddly proud. Even in his madness Rumple understood her, after a fashion. Her fingers drummed against her leg as she thought about how to save him from that gnat’s evils. Rumple’s strange new eyes were watching her intently. In that sing-song way he had of speaking now he said; All the prices from her spells, cannot live where True Love dwells.”

He nodded happily to himself and took Bae’s hand in his, but his eyes never left Belle. Oh her clever Spinner! He had formed a theory as to how he would be saved. Belle needed to be sure.

“Did Blue have this prison ready for him before she ‘tested’ him?”

“No, my lady. There was quite the scramble to prepare it.”

“Yes, I imagine there was, she wasn’t expecting him to survive you see.”

Bae’s hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger he wore at his belt. The poor lad was having his eyes opened by this experience. All the stories he’d heard as a child of the goodness and kindness of the fairies were being proven false as the truth of his Papa’s affliction was brought into the light.

“The gnat thought this would kill your Papa, Bae, but his heart is full of love for you. A kiss from you will break this curse.”

She’d expected him to rush to complete his task, but he slowly and sadly shook his head.

“I tried, my Lady. I know in the stories that True Love’s Kiss is normally shared by lovers, but I thought, I hoped that the love of a son for his father would be enough. It wasn’t.”

Belle frowned and stepped forward to take Rumple’s free hand in her own. He smiled softly at her, but her frown deepened as she explored the taint of the Blue Fairy’s magic within him.

“That little bitch!”

Rumple gasped dramatically and giggled at her. He dropped Bae’s hand and bopped a long clawed finger to her nose.

“Naughty word mistress.”

He gave his finger a puzzled glare and prodded her in the shoulder.

“Dream never felt this real before.”

For a moment the madness retreated from his eyes and he focused on her properly.

“Belle?”

“I’m here Rumple and I’m going to fix this, but not here, not in the dark.”

She straightened up, but held tight to his hand, with a gentle tug he got to his feet. There was a hard glint in her eye as she turned to Bae.

“Baelfire, go and rouse the King. This needs to be done in the light and with witnesses.”

Blue smoke wrapped the three of them and when it cleared Bae found himself standing outside the King’s bed chamber, much to the surprise of the guard on duty. Lady Belle and Papa weren’t with him, so they must have been transported directly to the throne room. Bae took a deep breath and firmly said; “The Dark Lady demands an audience with his majesty.”

The guard gulped and stumbled into the oak door behind him in his hurry to wake the King. Bae grinned to himself in the shadows of the corridor at the sounds of muffled shouting that drifted through the door. The King wasn’t happy with the news that woke him. Bae’s grin took on a harder line as he thought that the displeasure of the King was nothing compared to that of Lady Belle. He had a feeling that the King and the Blue Fairy would be lucky to see dawn in the same shape, and he didn’t give a damn for whatever fate Belle had in mind for them.


	8. And What Will Be.

The King had dressed in a hurry, only pausing long enough in his chamber to drag a robe over his nightshirt as he barked orders for the men of the council to be woken. He took a moment to tie the belt more firmly about his waist before he strode into his throne room with a confidence he didn’t feel. The Dark Lady was seated on his throne, her fingers drumming an impatient tattoo against the arm. Standing next to her, clad in simple finery was the Imp, Rumplestiltskin. The cursed creature looked calmer than when last the King laid eyes on him. He assumed that the presence of his mistress had soothed his mood, the Blue Fairy had been right; this man was her pet, sent to them to spread darkness with his evil. The King took a deep breath and bowed before his own throne.

“Lady Belle. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Belle snorted at him in a most unladylike way.

“Keep your empty flattery, your majesty. I’ll have none of that from you. Summon the Blue Fairy and the rest of your nobles.”

“That has already been done, Dark One.”

The nobles of the court were already filing into the room, staying well behind the King and as far as they could from the Dark One. A gentle shimmer filled the room as the Blue Fairy appeared next to the King. Belle’s eyes narrowed as she fixed the King with a cold stare.

“What a lucky king you are to have such a powerful magical creature at your beck and call. Shame the little bug couldn’t help you with the ogres, isn’t it?”

“Light magic could not have stopped such dark and evil creatures.”

Belle’s sparkling eyes turned from the King and locked on to the shimmering form of the Blue Fairy. Her voice was a low hiss when next she spoke; “You dare to speak of light magic, when it is your evils that have done this?”

Belle gestured to the now trembling form of Rumplestiltskin. He managed to hold his place, but shied away from the Blue Fairy as she looked at him with loathing in her eyes.

“His evils are from your taint.”

Belle slammed her hands against the arms of the throne and rose rapidly to her feet.

“Don’t you lie to me! Don’t you lie to them!”

Her arm swept around the throne room causing the gathered court to lean out of the way of the raw magic that crackled from her fingertips. Belle took a deep breath and flicked her hand towards the Blue Fairy. Whatever denials she had been about to voice died on her lips as Belle’s magic wrapped her in golden threads. The fairy struggled against her bonds.

“How dare you bind me?”

Belle sniffed and settled herself back onto the throne. The King and his court held their collective breath. A battle between two such magical beings would be a worthy tale to tell their children, if any of them survived this night. Another flick of the Dark Lady’s wrist brought the Blue Fairy’s wand drifting on the air towards her. Blue appeared to be robbed of speech as well as her wand, for she said nothing. As the wand drifted closer Rumplestiltskin shivered and cringed at Belle’s side. The King boggled as the Dark Lady turned her head toward the Imp and muttered soothing words to calm him. 

“Do you know how a fairy wand works?”

The question was addressed to the court at large, but no one dared to answer. Belle didn’t appear troubled by the lack of response.

“The core of the wand contains the price of the magic cast so it can be safely held and paid at a later date.”

The son of Rumplestiltskin gasped. The King was confused by the look of appalled realisation on the face of his ward. The Dark Lady’s words had offered no clarification for the King. The Dark One nodded grimly at the boy before continuing; “In the past fairies were sensible. They would grant the wishes of the worthy and curse the wicked with the cost of the magic,” Belle’s hard eyes locked with the bitter ones of the Blue Fairy, “At some point the fairies decided that they did not like being known for casting curses, they craved a reputation of purity and goodness. They stopped balancing their magic, trusting that their wands would hold forever the unpaid price of their good deeds.”

Belle rose to her feet and stepped in front of the bound fairy.

“How long had it been since you paid the price for your magic? Is that diamond filled stick working better for you now you’ve dumped every debt on to Rumplestiltskin?”

The Blue Fairy shifted against her bonds and somehow managed a dignified sneer.

“He is tainted by your darkness. How else could he spin fleece into gold?”

Belle laughed at her, “It is magic bought and paid for by the skill of his own hands, gnat! Balanced and honest, unlike anything you cast. No wonder you didn’t recognize it.”

There was a tense moment where the two women glared at each other. The Blue Fairy blinked first.

“There is nothing that can be done for him. You don’t have it in you.”

A slow smile spread across the face of the Dark One, there was nothing of warmth in the expression; it looked feral and predatory. Here was the reason Bae’s kiss had not broken the curse laid on his father. The gnat’s words were confirmation of what Belle had felt as she examined the magic.

“So, you did bind this deed to my name.”

Blue swallowed anxiously; suddenly aware that she had revealed too much. In her panic she attacked, jabbing at the one spot she knew the Dark One was vulnerable.

“You had everything a princess could dream of, why did you throw it all away and embrace darkness?”

Puzzled glances were exchanged among the court as Belle returned to stand at Rumple’s side. Blue’s words hinted at a tale none of them had heard, a tale no one had heard in centuries. Belle looked at Rumple’s reptilian eyes, concern had replaced the vacant madness and she took strength from that. The tale had to be told; he deserved to understand her treatment of him, to understand why she might not be able to save him for all that she was willing to try. She rounded on the Blue Fairy and said quietly; “No princess has ever dreamt of a husband who beat her, or burned her books.”

Her soft words echoed in the silent chamber, so did the growl from Rumple behind her. He reached a tentative hand to hers. He didn’t close his fingers around hers, but she felt his nearness and was grateful for it as Blue blustered out her excuses.

“Prince Gaston was high born, a valiant knight. The union between your two kingdoms was a good one.”

Belle shook her head; “No political alliance was worth the beatings I took at that man’s brutish hands. I paid the price for the magic you left unbalanced in forming that union.”

Blue sagged in the face of the truth Belle spoke, but she still tried a peevish final defence.

“It was True Love. It could have been your happy ending.”

Belle had heard all this from the fairy before, but this time her words provoked no anger, she was long past that now. She caught Rumple’s hand in hers and brought him forward, now was the moment to do the brave thing, even if failure followed she would try.

“No, it wasn’t. You over-reached gnat, no magic can produce love of any kind. This is True Love.”

She turned to face Rumple and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He tilted his head, confused by her words and actions, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that she prayed was hope. Belle took a deep breath and leant into him. Their lips brushed; a whispered promise of the feeling in her heart and, please let it be so, the feeling within his. Belle wasn’t sure until his hand tenderly cupped her face and his lips moved against hers. Even then she wasn’t certain until the glittering pulse of True Love rolled from them. Rumple pulled back with a shuddering gasp. A look of pure panic clouded his eyes as he stumbled away from her. Bae rushed forward taking the steps of the dais two at a time. Between them they tried to support Rumple, but they were both thrown backwards by the shockwave that erupted from his body. The King and his court staggered, but mostly remained upright. The Blue Fairy was not so lucky. Belle and Bae twisted on the floor to watch as a dark bolt of lightning from Rumple danced jaggedly over their heads and earthed itself in the fairy. Her tortured scream was suddenly cut off as she exploded in a cloud of dull dust.

No one moved. It was hard to believe that anyone drew breath in the moment that followed the Blue Fairy’s demise.

“Bae? My Lady?”

At the sound of Rumple’s voice Bae scrambled to his feet. Manners won out against instinct and the lad managed to help Belle to her feet before running to his father. The lad cannoned into his father’s arms, causing Rumple to stagger a little laughing all the while.

“Steady lad. You’re bigger than me now.”

Bae pulled back, gazing with wonder at his father. Rumple was human again; the only trace left of his ordeal was the gauntness that still pinched his face. He gently untangled himself from his son and moved down the steps to stand in front of Belle. He hesitantly took her hand and bowed low over it.

“Thank you my Lady.”

She tutted at him and caught his chin in her free hand, only a little shy as she closed the distance he had left between them.

“I think we are beyond such formalities now, Rumple.”

He smiled shyly at her and nodded; “Belle.”

Their tentative kiss was broken this time by the deliberate clearing of the King’s throat. Belle sighed and smiled at Rumple before she turned to face the King.

“What is it, dearie?”

The King cleared his throat again; “It would appear we were wrong to place our trust in the Blue Fairy.”

He grimaced as his eyes fell on the pile of dust that had been the fairy.

“We were tricked and beguiled, my Lady. I beg your forgiveness.”

His words rankled at Belle and for a moment she considered leaving this kingdom with an invertebrate for a ruler.

“It is not my forgiveness you need to beg, your majesty.”

The King swallowed hard as he caught her meaning. It did not come easily to him to bend to a coward, but he managed it.

“Rumplestiltskin, the kingdom and I beg your forgiveness.”

Belle bit back her smile at Rumple’s surprise.

“I forgive you, your majesty,” A quirk of a smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at Belle before finishing, “You would do well to remember that all magic comes with a price, but my forgiveness is free. This time.”

Belle laughed gleefully at Rumple’s words. A swirl of blue smoke appeared and vanished taking Rumple, Bae and her from the throne room.


	9. Doubts

Bae was annoyed and frustrated. It had been a week since Lady Belle had rescued Papa from the curse of the Blue Fairy. Seven days since the Dark Lady had undone the evils with True Love’s Kiss and spirited the three of them to her castle. Bae had loved it, the exploring, the meals taken with Papa and Belle, the grand adventure of it all, in the wake of such fear and sadness for Papa, was exhilarating. He had been sure that Belle was to become his step-mother, but the two of them didn’t seem to be getting any closer to marriage. He’d been expecting to see gentle touches, shared smiles and whispers as they leaned close together to talk. There were touches and smiles, but somehow every interaction he’d seen between Belle and his Papa was shy and awkward. At the King’s court he seen matches made and recognized the formal courting of the nobles, the gifting of a flower, the bestowing of a favour; but he’d also blundered across the more human courting, heated embraces in darkened corridors. Bae shook himself, he was glad that he’d not caught his Papa in such a position, but at least it would have been proof that things were going well between him and Belle. Bae ran his hands through his hair and huffed in frustration, Papa and Belle were True Love! Shouldn’t that mean things like kissing and marriage came easier than in an arranged match?

He only had dim memories of Mamma and Papa together, he knew now that there was no love between his parents and with thoughtful hindsight he could see his mother’s loathing for Papa in each snide remark and withering look. There was none of that in the strange dance between Belle and Papa, but there was something that Bae thought might be doubt. In fact Bae was certain that a careless remark of his has sown some of that in his Papa’s mind.

The lad blew out a slow breath and went to find Jefferson. The hatter and his daughter had stopped by for tea three days ago and been invited to stay. Belle had extended that offer for his sake he knew; she was worried that he’d be bored in an empty castle after the constant bustle of the King’s court. He smiled at her kindness, life at court had been busy and constantly changing, but Jefferson was a grand adventure all on his own, the man could never sit still and swept everyone else along in his exuberance. Yesterday he’d led Grace and Bae into the disused East wing in search of whatever they may find. They’d mostly found spiders and a lot of dust, but it had been an adventure. Grace had been equal to it, never once shrieking like some of the sillier girls at court. As she’d tuck up her skirts and scrambled to catch the largest spider she’d reminded Bae of Princess Emma who caused her governess to gnash her teeth by always preferring sword practise to embroidery. A grin spread across Bae’s face as he remembered teasing the Princess that he could sew better than she could. The grin was firmly in place as he found Jefferson in the dining room.

“Good morning, Bae. Thinking on a pretty girl?”

Bae felt his cheeks flame. How could Jefferson do that? The blush deepened further as he realised that Princess Emma was pretty. Bae shook his head and forced his thoughts away from sunlight on blonde hair and back to the matter that had caused him to seek Jefferson out in the place.

“We need to do something about Belle and Papa.”

The knowing smirk that had been on the hatter’s face dropped into a serious frown.

“My thoughts exactly. They are leading each other in a merry dance aren’t they?”

“I think I might have made things worse.”

Jefferson’s head tilted to one side as he waved his hand for Bae to continue. Bae opened his mouth to speak but closed it again quickly as Grace rushed into the room giggling. The hatter was instantly wreathed in smiles, his attention solely on his pride and joy.

“What have you been up to, little one?”

“I’ve locked Belle and Mister Rumple in one of the store rooms. They have to talk to each other now.”

Grace looked proud, while her father did his best to keep a stern look on his face. It didn’t last, in mere seconds the hatter was doubled over laughing. Bae was confused.

“Won’t Belle just poof them out with magic?”

Jefferson wiped his eyes on a mauve silk handkerchief, but couldn’t quell his laughter enough to speak. Grace grinned at Bae.

“No, she can’t. I locked the room with a spell she taught me. No one can leave that room until sunset,” The little girl put her hands on her hips and stepped up close to Bae. He didn’t take a step back, but he did lean away from the angry look on her face, “Now they can talk about that nonsense you put in your Papa’s head with your daft questions.”

Jefferson had control of himself now and was staring hard at Bae.

“What did you say?”

Bae gulped nervously; “I wondered why True Love’s Kiss didn’t break Lady Belle’s curse.”

Oh, so that was the problem. Jefferson’s voice was almost chilly as he asked; “And what curse do you think our Dark Lady is under?”

“The curse of the Dagger. The curse of the Dark One.”

Grace gave a snort and turned on her heel to face her father. Bae flinched as she blindly jabbed his chest with a finger.

“See Papa. Fairy’s lies and nonsense.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“To the kitchen for us I think. We will need tea and cakes to explain all this.”


	10. Questions and Kisses

Between clenched teeth Belle growled and rattled the doorknob. When she taught Grace this spell she’d never expected to be on the receiving end of it. What girl in their right mind would lock the Dark Lady in a store room? The Hatter’s daughter obviously had no fear about doing just that. Belle probably would have seen the joke if she was alone in the room, but she wasn’t was she? And according to Grace’s shout through the keyhole, they were locked here until sunset, which was hours away. Belle sent her magic at the door again, and felt a surge of pride that Grace had worked the spell so well.

“I’m sorry my Lady. I’ll stay out of your way, as much as I can.”

Belle’s hands balled into fists so quickly her knuckles cracked.

“And why would I expect you to do that?”

Rumple shuffled back as far as he could, which given this small space wasn’t much. Belle’s insides twisted to see him try to make himself so small. Weren’t they passed this now? After all that had happened couldn’t he trust her more? Then again for the past week they had been dodging around each other, avoiding everything they needed to talk about. True Love’s Kiss might be the happy ending in stories, but in the real world it was the start of a new journey that had to be planned, and she’d not done anything to help with that.

Rumple chewed at his lip and to her surprise squared his shoulders and took a tiny step towards her. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again without a word. He turned around taking in the details of the room. He darted toward a far corner and was almost lost in the gloom. Belle waved her hand and furnished the room with light, causing Rumple to smile at her over his shoulder. He pulled a chair from the corner and set it on its feet in the centre of the room. It was a padded seat with scroll worked arms and a wonky leg. He batted some of the dust from the seat with his hand, making himself cough in the process.

“My cleaning didn’t bring me as far as this room. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever been in this part of the castle before.”

As he talked he held his hand out to her and offered her a bow. Belle had to smile, his simple courtly gesture meant so much to her. With a curtsey she took his hand and allowed him to guide her to the chair.

“Where will you sit?”

“At your feet my Lady. So as not to loom.”

A shy smile accompanied his words and he settled himself on his knees on the floor in front of her. She watched him for a long moment and could feel the threads of a story twisting, trying to form into a weave around them, what manner of magic did this man have? There was a ghost of an idea in her mind, a suggestion of an answer to that question, but it remained elusive and Belle knew better than to try and grasp it for now. 

“May I ask some questions, Belle?”

“You can ask.”

Rumple smiled at her playful tone; “I should say, will you answer some questions?”

“My answers usually come at a price.”

Belle wasn’t sure why she was playing with him like this, but Rumple’s smiles suggested that he was happy with this little game. He held his open hands up to her with a shrug.

“I have nothing to offer you, except,” He bite his lip for an instant then continued, “May I buy your answers with a kiss?”

She felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. Well they were locked away together for the duration of the day, so why shouldn’t they indulge in a little game of courtship?

“Very well, I’ll have a kiss from you for each answer I give you.”

It was Rumple’s turn to blush; it reassured her that he was as nervous as she with the development in their relationship and as excited by their game.

“Was the kiss that broke the Blue Fairy’s curse True Love?”

“Yes.”

A gentle brush of his lips against the little finger of her left hand. Belle felt a shiver of delight, Rumple had not immediately claimed her lips, he was going to draw this out into a gentle seduction. 

“For True Love’s Kiss to work the feeling must be on both side mustn’t it?”

“Yes, both hearts must feel the same.”

Rumple’s face bloomed into a smile at her answer. A weight she’d not been aware of lifted from him. She almost laughed, her gentle Spinner had been unsure of her feeling for him. His long fingered hands tenderly turned her hand and he bowed his head to press a kiss to the centre of her palm.

“You were married before?”

She’d known they would talk of this, but she didn’t want the unpleasant memories from so long ago to sour the playful mood between them.

“I was.”

The knuckles of her right hand received a small kiss.

“Will you tell me about it someday?”

The trace of gloom that she’d felt at the edge of her mind vanished. Rumple should know of her failed marriage, she knew of his, but he was giving her time to prepare herself for that awful moment.

“Yes, someday soon.”

She caught her fingers under his chin as he bowed to kiss her right palm. She wanted to seal this deal with a real kiss, so he knew she would keep her word. He caught her intent in her eyes and gently leaned forward, just enough for their lips to meet. It was a chaste brushing of lips, but Belle felt the tingle of magic that signalled a deal struck. Rumple leant back on his heels again and took in a slow breath. A tiny frown of worry creased his brow.

“Is it true that the Dark One in under a fearsome curse?”

Aha, this was the source of his doubts about her feelings for him. Belle rested herself against the back of the chair, which wobbled slightly on its mismatched legs. Rumple grabbed the arms of the chair to steady it.

“Your question requires a long answer. Will you pay for it with a longer kiss?”

Rumple’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, as if not trusting his voice he nodded his answer.

“Long ago there was an evil in this world that went by the name of the Dark One. Their foul magic was linked to a dagger, a magical blade that was forged to slay a fearsome evil. But magic that powerful is tricky; it was not vanquished that day but attached itself to the soul of the hero who wielded the dagger. The dagger became both the source of their power and the only way to slay the new Dark One.”

Belle paused and watched Rumple’s eyes carefully. There was worry in his brown eyes, but she couldn’t tell whom he was worried for.

“In the many years that followed the Dark One fell to those who sought the power. Each time the title of Dark One was passed on to the person who slayed the last. Until a hundred years before I was born the Dark One vanished from this world.”

Rumple blinked at her in surprise. She could see that he’d thought he’d understood the shape of her story; he’d been bracing himself to hear how she had slayed a Dark One to take the mantle of power. Now he was confused, but Belle didn’t intend to leave him that way for long.

“When I abandoned the marriage that the Blue Fairy had made I ran to the far reaches of the kingdoms and on the way I discovered I had magic of my own. I found books and teachers along the way. I was a quick study and within a few years I held great power. The Blue Fairy was enraged that I had broken with my husband. She began to spread the tale that I had found the power of the Dark One and taken it for my own. I chose to let the tale stand, even added to it myself. It offered a level of protection and security that I hadn’t known for a long time. By the time I was answering the calls of desperate souls, as the Dark One of old had, it was too late for Blue to correct her lies. I think she’d hoped that a hero would be sent to drag me back to my marriage, but I twisted the tale and instead of inciting heroes it made them cower from me. I was safe, safe to study, safe to make my own way in the world, even if that way was under the cover of a dark and evil borrowed name.”

Her eyes had fallen to focus on her hands where they lay in her lap as she spoke. Rumple’s hands now came into her view as he wrapped them around hers.

“I am under no curse, Rumple. There is no evil within me that True Love’s Kiss would remove. I am a creature of my own making.”

With that final admission she raised her head and looked at the man opposite her. Rumple was smiling softly, his eyes darted to her lips.

“May I pay for your answer, my Lady?”

Belle nodded and he moved towards her. This time the kiss they shared was long and slow. The easy movement of their lips against each other was delightful. Belle sighed softly when Rumple pulled away without ever seeking to deepen the kiss further.

“You were brave.”

She had to laugh at his statement.

“I ran, not many in the world see running as an act of bravery.”

Rumple shook his head.

“You ran to a better life. I know cowardice. I am one. I ran from the battle, but ran no further out of fear of the unknown. I stayed in my village because I was terrified that the world held greater fears. You ran into that world and made it your own.”

“I like the way you tell my story, Rumple.”

“It is your magic that keeps you young?”

“It is.”

He almost asked another question, but remembered their game and kissed the inside of her wrist first.

“How old are you?”

She had to think about that one for a moment.

“Two hundred and eighty-seven, no two hundred and eighty-nine.”

Rumple’s eyes widened in surprise as he laughed.

“And yet to look at us people will say I am the cradle robber!”

Belle joined his laughter and took a quick kiss from his lips. He dropped his head a little and wouldn’t meet her eye. His voice was quiet when he next spoke.

“Will the world look on us and see a couple, my Lady?”

Her heart fluttered.

“What are you asking me Rumplestiltskin?”

He shifted on his knees, bringing one foot to rest flat against to floor at the level of the other bent knee. She watched as his hand dipped into his pocket, but couldn’t see what he held in his closed fist.

“By the laws of my land a marriage is dissolved if one party has been abandoned for seven years. It has been more than seven years since my wife left me. I am a husband no more.”

He turned his closed hand and opened his fingers. Resting on his palm was a thin, plaited bracelet of spun gold.

“Lady Belle, you have my soul, you have my heart, will you accept my hand in marriage?”

She froze. This is what she’d been afraid of when he’d saved her from the outlaw’s arrow, terrified that he would try to claim her hand and make her a subservient wife once more. She searched his warm brown eyes for a hint of that intent and found only patience and a fear that he would be rejected. He was not trying to claim her; he was offering himself to her as freely as he’d offered the story of his life, as freely as he’d given her his name. Her fear melted away. She’d wanted him to trust her and now she had to trust him. Trust that their True Love was real and that they could journey through life together side by side.

“I accept your hand in marriage Rumplestiltskin.”

The breath he’d been holding escaped from his lips in a relieved rush. He carefully gave her the bracelet, but made no more to place it on her wrist.

“It’s made from the very first gold I spun. You don’t have to wear it, but tradition says I must offer you something.”

She let her finger trace the fine plait as the bracelet lay on her palm. 

“Why not a ring?”

“There was too much gold, and you don’t wear rings.”

Belle had the impression he was not speaking everything that was in his mind. 

“Do you know the symbolism of the wedding ring?”

“It marks a woman as a wife, bound to a husband. That doesn’t feel right for us.”

Belle pressed the bracelet between her palms and turned her hands sideways. A glow of magic surrounded her hands as she moved them apart. In the space between them the plaited bracelet hovered as her magic glowed around it. It twisted and shifted, splitting into two equal parts. Belle took his left hand in hers and held them under the floating bracelets. Rumple was watching her with that look of wonder that she was so fond of. For all the time he’d spent with her in the castle daily surrounded by magic, he still watched it’s working with amazement.

“One for each of us. A sign that we are bound to each other as equals.”

There was almost a question in her words; born of the small nagging doubt that he would refuse to wear the symbol of such an unusual marriage contract. In the warmth of love that shone from his eyes the doubt shrivelled.

“Yes.”

At that single word the bracelets opened and settled around their left wrists. There was a change in the air as they fastened shut. Belle felt Rumple shiver.

“We are married.”

“We are, bound by magic for all the world to see.”

Rumple lifted their joined hands and placed a kiss over the gold that circled her wrist.

“The kiss I owed you for answering my question, my Lady.”

A smile and a blush lit up his face as he rose from his knees still holding her hand.

“May I kiss my wife?”

Belle got to her feet; their left hands came to rest between their chests as she closed the distance between them.

“Yes husband.”


	11. Celebrations

The sun set over the Dark Castle and the locked door clicked open. Belle smiled at Rumple.

“I suppose we should go and talk to the others.”

Rumple returned her smile and kissed her cheek.

“Ready to meet your step-son?”

Belle’s eyes widened slightly, she’d not given any thought to that side of marrying Rumple, but he was her husband and that meant she and Bae shared a family tie. Her gentle spinner squeezed her hand.

“He already loves you. A change in title won’t change that.”

“In stories step-mothers are always evil and mean to their step-children.”

Rumple tilted his head and hummed in thought; “Well, his step-mother is the Dark One. Are you planning on turning him into a toad?”

The twinkle in his eyes betrayed his humour. She took a step towards the door; “Only if he misbehaves,” She looked over her shoulder to see a look of mock horror on Rumple’s face, “But I’ll turn him back.”

Laughing he caught up to her; hand in hand they went in search of their friends and family.

 

Jefferson, Grace and Bae were in the kitchen cooking. They didn’t notice the new arrivals until Rumple gasped in shock; “What happened here?”

The kitchen was a state of chaos; the table was covered with bowls, plates, and spilled ingredients. The sink was filled with pans, some of which looked to be burnt beyond hope. Rumple wasn’t sure where they had all come from, he didn’t think the kitchen had this many pans. 

Jefferson bounced over to them; “We’ve been cooking, but who cares, have you two talked?”

Grace and Bae joined the Hatter wearing matching hopeful looks. The three of them were in as bad a state as the kitchen; Jefferson’s waistcoat was spattered in something sticky, Bae was covered in flour and Grace’s sleeves were wet to the elbow. Rumple’s eyes roved over the mess and he weakly asked; “Cooking what?”

Bae rolled his eyes; “Cake, but that’s not important, Papa. Have you two talked?”

Rumple couldn’t get his thoughts passed the mess in his kitchen. Belle raised their joined hands and showed them the gold bracelet around her wrist. Rumple raised his left hand and pushed back his cuff to show them the matching one about his wrist. Their little audience leaned forward; Jefferson flapped his hands at them to encourage an explanation.

“We talked and we’re married.”

Grace punched the air and danced in a little circle. Bae’s eyebrows shot up; “With no cleric to say the words?”

Jefferson batted his arm; “Who needs clerics when you have True Love? They are wedded and b…” He threw Grace a cautious look as his tongue stumbled to a halt, “Wedded and on their honeymoon now.” The Hatter brushed the front of his waistcoat, not that it did much good, “Grace, Bae, I think that the three of us should take a little trip. Let the newlyweds settle in to married life.”

The Hatter gave the newlyweds a suggestive wink. Rumple dipped his head and tried to hide his blush behind his hair. After a moment Bae joined his father in beetroot embarrassment. Belle rolled her eyes and muttered something as she hid her face on Rumple’s shoulder. Much to Jefferson’s relief Grace appeared unaware of the reasons for the sudden outbreak of blushes.

“Should we celebrate first Papa? I’ve never been to a wedding feast.”

The mention of food cooled Rumple’s face enough that he raised his head and waved an arm at the disaster of a kitchen.

“Is there anything left to cook with, or in for that matter.”

Belle giggled and snapped her fingers. The kitchen was instantly returned to its normal clean and ordered state.

“We’ll let magic prepare us a feast tonight. I’ll not have my husband slaving over a stove on our wedding night.”

She gave his cheek a quick peck and suddenly felt a little uncomfortable showing such affection in front of his son, her step son. Bae caught the nervous dart of her eyes and crossed the room to stand in front of them. His posture was stiff, formally he bowed to Rumple and said; “Father, will you introduce me to your bride?”

Rumple swallowed nervously, not sure why his son had retreated behind courtly manners, but impressed that Bae could carry off such a manner while covered in flour. If this was what Bae needed to accept his unusual marriage then Rumple would follow his lead. 

“Baelfire, it gives me great pleasure to introduce Lady Belle La Fay, my bride and wife.”

Bae took Belle’s offered hand and bowed over it. Rumple was worried about the cold formality of it all, but then Bae straighten up and tugged Belle’s hand. She stumbled forward only to be wrapped in a huge hug by Bae.

“Welcome to the family, Mother.”

Belle returned his embrace, Bae reached out and pulled Rumple into the hug; “Congratulations Papa. I know we’re going to be a happy family.”

Rumple smiled at his son and then was crushed into Belle and Bae as Jefferson and Grace join the scrum of a hug.

“Congratulations all round! Now to feasting and dancing!”

Jefferson’s enthusiasm hustled them up to the Great Hall, where the five of them celebrated the marriage of Belle Lay Fay and Rumplestiltskin in fine style.

 

A thousand miles away crewmen dropped the sodden chest on to the deck at the captain’s feet. A few blows from an axe broke the coral encrusted lock. The crew stood back, hungry eyes fixed on the chest as the captain bent to open the lid. He removed the contents and stood to face his woman. On open palms he offered the package to her. She unwrapped the leather and smiled they got their first glimpse of the wavy edged blade.

“We found it Milah.”

“Now we need to reclaim its power from the Usurper.”

Captain Killian Jones grinned at her and yelled to his crew; “Enough lollygagging! Raise the anchor! Make sail!”

“What’s our course Captain?”

“We return to the Enchanted Forest, Boson,” Jones leaned to press a kiss to Milah’s lips and whispered, “And from there to the Dark Castle.”


End file.
